Pendragon
09-26-2007, 10:26 AM
DREAMSCAPE
Dreams are made of cobweb silk, sewn with needles of desire.
Their presence walks the very edges of madness.
Each moment spent within them only fans the fire
until the face grows flushed and you begin to perspire,
panting with longing like a man possessed.
Dreams are made of cobweb silk, sewn with needles of desire,
sometimes they frighten; sometimes they inspire
a human to look beyond this veneer of pale flesh.
Each moment spent within them only fans the fire
until the flaming torrent consumes the entire
soul, body, and mind. This they call Madness?
Dreams are made of cobweb silk, sewn with needles of desire,
rich, passionate scenes, tapestries that require
more than just memories to become moments that last.
Each moment spent within them only fans the fire,
lends echo to the voice of Morpheus’ choir.
The problem is that they’re fleeting and too soon pass.
Dreams are made of cobweb silk, sewn with needles of desire.
Each moment spent within them only fans the fire…
Pendragon
© 8/4/04
Dreams are made of cobweb silk, sewn with needles of desire.
Their presence walks the very edges of madness.
Each moment spent within them only fans the fire
until the face grows flushed and you begin to perspire,
panting with longing like a man possessed.
Dreams are made of cobweb silk, sewn with needles of desire,
sometimes they frighten; sometimes they inspire
a human to look beyond this veneer of pale flesh.
Each moment spent within them only fans the fire
until the flaming torrent consumes the entire
soul, body, and mind. This they call Madness?
Dreams are made of cobweb silk, sewn with needles of desire,
rich, passionate scenes, tapestries that require
more than just memories to become moments that last.
Each moment spent within them only fans the fire,
lends echo to the voice of Morpheus’ choir.
The problem is that they’re fleeting and too soon pass.
Dreams are made of cobweb silk, sewn with needles of desire.
Each moment spent within them only fans the fire…
Pendragon
© 8/4/04